


Missing Out

by Morgana



Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:56:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardison's sulking about missing Comic Con. Eliot tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Out

"Comic Con, huh?"

Hardison didn't bother to look up when Eliot walked past him, too busy concentrating on the Torchwood panel to spare more than a muttered, "Shut up," for his teammate.

"What? I was just gonna say that I'm sorry you had to miss it. I hear it's, uh, what's it called... full of wen, right?"

That did it. Hardison hit the space bar and closed his laptop with a decisive bang, then turned around in his chair to glare at the hitter. "First of all, 'full of wen'? Seriously? C'mon, man, don't make me have to smack you here. Second -"

"What do you mean, smack me?" Eliot interrupted, bristling at the threat. "You really think you could do more than flail around in my general direction?"

"Oh, I can put a hurting on you if I want," Hardison promised. "But that's not the point. Its _win_ , man, full of _win_. If you're gonna try to speak my language, get it right. That's all I want."

"That's all you want."

"Yeah. And second, you can stop rubbing it in anytime now. I didn't go on and on about you missing some kind of world championship of beating people up, did I?"

Eliot scowled at him. "What the hell are you talking about? There's nothing like that."

"If there was, though, I wouldn't." Hardison glanced over at the laptop that was scanning their current mark's financial records for traces of transfers to Switzerland. "Spielberg finally decides to go and I have to miss it," he muttered. "Had tickets for a personal meet and greet, too." The tickets technically belonged to Ron Howard, but he was filming in China, so it wasn't like he'd be using them. Besides, that wasn't the point. Hardison had hacked them fair and square, only to lose out because Stephen Jamison liked scamming little old ladies out of their retirement funds.

One thing was for sure: they were going to get this jackass. Hardison was going to completely pwn his pathetic ass, and not just because some of these women were a little too much like his Nana for comfort, neither. In the meantime, he planned to sulk as much as he liked about missing Comic Con, although Eliot didn't have to rub it in like he was. That was just cruel.

Something landed on his closed laptop, and Hardison looked over to see a battered hat laying on the lid. "Yeah, like a stupid replica's supposed to make me feel better."

"It's not a replica."

Hardison's head snapped over to stare at Eliot, who was leaning against the table, arms crossed over his chest. "Wait. You mean this is -"

Eliot smirked at him. "Yep."

"Indy's hat," Hardison breathed reverently, reaching out to run a finger over the brim. He looked from the hat back to Eliot. "How'd you get this, man? I thought the only ones on the market were fake."

Eliot shrugged. "Don't know about that; I've had it for a while, got it a few years back."

Now Hardison was getting curious. If Eliot was being this close-mouthed about it, there had to be a good story behind it. "How?"

"Someone gave it to me."

 _"Who?!?"_ Visions of Eliot doing some kind of job for Harrison Ford or maybe even Spielberg himself flashed through Hardison's mind, and he pushed his chair back as Eliot headed for the kitchen, following him without even thinking about it. "C'mon, man, this isn't cool. You gotta tell me who gave it to you!"

Eliot did a quick check for reflective surfaces as he stepped into the kitchen, permitting himself a small smile while he ducked into the freezer to retrieve a beer. Hardison wasn't moping around about missing his convention anymore, so it looked like the hat had worked. It was genius, really - he had to give it to Nate, the guy came up with some great plans. In fact, as Hardison tailed him to the screening room, still demanding to know where it had come from, Eliot started to wonder if perhaps Nate's idea had been a little _too_ good...


End file.
